


Hands On

by badbromance



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbromance/pseuds/badbromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt of "Every time Johnny touches himself, Evan feels it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands On

**Author's Note:**

> This is total PWP, and written quickly to get over a bout of terrible wb.

It had been an accident. Johnny had been going too fast, not seeing Evan, who had just stumbled out of his triple toe. They'd crashed together in a pile of limbs and blades. Neither of them were hurt (well, Evan's pride took a small dent, and just what was that grin Johnny gave him when Evan climbed off of him?), and they finished practice a little bruised, but all right.

Evan didn't think anything of it, and went to have a shower. Johnny was in the next stall, and like, it wasn't a big deal. They'd all seen each other naked at least once, it was just something that happened. So, Evan focused on the music going through his head until he felt it.

Someone was touching his cock.

He looked around in a panic, but there was nobody there. He wasn't doing it, his hands were flat against the tile. Okay, either he was really tired, or...

Then it happened again.

Evan bit his lip, because fuck it felt good. It was so very wrong, and it wasn't possible, but fuck. Smooth, up and down motions, just enough pressure to drive him crazy. He risked looking down, saw that he was growing hard due to whatever the hell this was. It had to be too much training, he was finally cracking up. Whatever, it had been ages since he'd got off with anyone other than himself, it didn't matter. He backed up against the tile, letting the water run down his chest.

The phantom touch continued, though not solely on his cock. He felt hands running through his hair, tugging on the wet strands just enough to pinch. A rough, uneven fingernail scraped across a nipple, tugging it to hardness. He felt alive, raw, panting and moaning as he turned his face up to the spray. A real touch to his arm, not the ghostly one he'd been feeling, made him jump.

Johnny. He was watching Evan, seemingly fascinated. His cheeks were flushed, green eyes bright against his black hair. That smile was there, the one that really liked when he cared enough to notice (though something he'd never, ever admit). He was also obviously, obscenely hard. "You can feel it." He slid a hand down his own cock, watching Evan's every move. It wasn't a question.

Evan moaned out a reply, moving this from Very Wrong to Very Very Bad and Wrong. Fuck, the last thing he wanted was for Johnny to know he had all the control. It was just-- his hands, his touch, Evan felt the heat swirl into his belly, and he couldn't help but arch closer to him. "How...? Ah... fuck." No, he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be getting off in a shower with Johnny Weir. Anyone could see-- "I can't." He let his hands fall, and tried to move away.

For being shorter than Evan was, Johnny was strong. He pressed Evan against the tile, taking his hands. He lowered one to Evan's cock, holding tightly to the other one. "No, honey, no. I know you can feel it. I know you're just _horrified_ at the thought of getting off with me. Because of me," he stepped back a bit, green eyes full of mischief. Fucking asshole. "But, Evan, I know you're secretly loving this."

Evan watched as Johnny stroked himself (and Evan in the process). Feet apart, free hand sliding across his chest. His eyes were half-closed, mouth open and relaxed. His chest was rising and falling under the splayed hand, each breath, each tug pushing Evan closer to the edge. Fine, fine he was loving it. It was fucking hot. He growled, reaching out for Johnny's arm, dragging him closer. He slid his hand into the wet strands of hair on the back of Johnny's head, crushing their months together in a kiss. It was angry, and messy, and burning away all the reservations he had. His usual method of dealing with Johnny was to treat him like a highly explosive bomb that could go off at any time, but at the same time, made you elated that you were blowing up with him. Caution blew straight to the fucking wind then, and he clung to him under the streaming hot water. Bad, wrong, but amazing.

Johnny pulled back first, the corners of his mouth sliding easily into a smug grin. It was easier this way, with Johnny pressed against him. He fit right against him, right there, close enough to make Evan get a little overwhelmed. "This is so wrong."

He snorted against Evan's neck, teeth sliding over the tender spot where it curved into his shoulder. "Like anything else with us. Stop talking, you're ruining the mood." He shoved Evan back, one hand on his hip. He as infuriating when he was like this, Evan thought. Which was, like, pretty much all the fucking time. "Be a good boy and touch yourself."

Evan circled a hand around himself loosely, keeping his eyes glued to Johnny's. Up, down, using the water (and some of the soap) to make things easier. It had the desired effect, making Johnny pant out a moan. Okay, so this also worked in reverse. Evan was the one smirking now, sliding his thumb over the head of his cock, and watching Johnny grab onto him for support. Fuck yeah. "Do you still want me to be a good boy?" He tightened his grip, nipping at the corner of Johnny's mouth.

Johnny kissed him, though there was something deeper, something more urgent to this kiss. They touched themselves (each other), before Johnny finally batted Evan's hand away. "Like this." He took hold of Evan's cock, and pressed his own into Evan's hand. _Oh_... of course that was better, because they knew how to touch themselves and holy fuck.

They were close; hot, sticky skin pressed together in the humid air. Johnny's whispered moans pressed against Evan's lips. Evan knew they were both starved sexually, but it wasn't just that. It was the fact that Evan had _Johnny_ moaning and breathless in his arms. Each touch, each slide of skin, each breath against his skin was felt in reverse. He wanted to capture how he felt, hold onto it tightly, but he couldn't think of anything other than the fact that he was coming in hot waves from _Johnny's cock_. Johnny swore, arching from the wall mirroring the fucking amazing, yet totally weird feeling as his own orgasm hit him.

Something shifted then, and Evan slowly started to feel things in his own body. He felt Johnny's head against his shoulder, and slid a hand up his back to wind into his hair. "That was--"

"Weird. Of course it was weird, it's us." He pulled back, but not out of Evan's arms. "I really thought you'd run away at some point, even when I had you pinned to the wall..."

Evan blushed, which-- considering what they'd just done-- was pretty fucking hilarious. "I am incredibly sex-starved, and felt like you could help me." He tried to look sincere.

Johnny snorted. "And I'm not? Bitch, Galina will pin my balls to the inside of her fur for this," he did pull away then. "Since I'm already in trouble, if you wanted to know what this is like the right way, I might not even say no."

No, Evan didn't want to know. That way was danger. Explosions. Cool guys didn't look at explosions.

Then again, who said he had to look? "I might be in room 933."

Johnny slung a towel around his hips, grinning like a maniac before walking away.


End file.
